


Into the West

by orphan_account



Category: Tales of Xillia
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, Post-Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-22
Updated: 2013-09-22
Packaged: 2017-12-27 06:57:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/975808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jude completes his mission. </p>
<p>(I'm trying to stay unspoiled, so this isn't compliant with whatever happens in Xillia 2.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into the West

Jude's hands were shaking by the time the examination was over, and only the discreet application of Healer kept his arthritis from flaring up. His assistant had told him that it was a bad idea to see patients today, and she was right as usual, but when this request came in, well… he just couldn't bring himself to fob it off on a subordinate. His career in research had sheltered him. He'd never toughened up the way a real clinician should. 

Jude administered a sedative, then turned to the patient's partner. 

"The implant modifications are doing well. He needs to sleep to minimize the risk of rejection."

"Professor Mathis, I can't thank you enough for agreeing to see my husband at a time like this," the boy babbled. "You must be so busy preparing for the activation of the spyrite gestalt reactor tomorrow. It means a lot to us that--"

Jude silenced the boy with a look. Not that Jude was glaring, or anything like that, but people tended to hold their tongues when they thought he might be about to say something. That was the trouble with being so old that people mistook you for a legend. They decided that the meaning of life might fall from your lips at any moment. 

Jude never thought he'd miss the days when Teepo interrupted his lectures by attempting to swallow his head. 

"Come on, Rowen, is this really necessary?" He clapped Rowen on the shoulder. "You knew you could call your do-gooder Uncle Jude." 

Rowen had the grace to look abashed. He really did take after his grandmother, from the curve of his button nose to the curl in his moss-green hair. 

"Right. Well-- thank you, sir." 

"These lightning element spyrites can be tricky to control. Make sure he checks the flow regulation every morning and doesn't let his mind wander when he's using electronics. Any more overuse could do irreparable nerve damage." 

"He'll be careful." Poor Rowen nearly nodded his head off. Jude suspected that one of the ward physicians had given Rowen an earful about imposing on Jude's time. "He really, definitely will. I'll make sure of it." 

"Then it sounds like my work here is finished."

Jude's knees crackled with pain when he stood to leave the room, but his footsteps felt decades lighter. 

 

+++

 

Jude's exit from the Vint Svent Medical Institute went about as well as could be expected. Terrified students leapt out of his way while simultaneously trying to take his picture on their phone cameras. Friendly winds adjusted their course to blow at his back. There were benefits to being the man who stood beside the Lord of Spirits. The world bent to accommodate your infirmities.

Jude was weary of it. Infirmity, and ease too. He wanted to battle a monster of the Rusalle Highroad. He wanted to plant his boot in its face, and feel the rush of fire breathed past his shoulder, and taste blood in the back of his throat. 

But his monster was slain. The final reactor tests had ended that morning. There were no more materials to gather, or inspections to approve, or equations to check. Soon, the last remnants of the Age of Schism would pass, and the world that Jude and Milla had dreamt of would become a reality. 

For the first time in a century, Jude had nothing to do and nowhere to be. 

Jude wasn't sure what he'd thought he was going to do with the novelty of free time. Take a nap, maybe, or sit in the park and watch the stars. Yet the anticipation in the city was infectious, and he found himself wandering the streets, wanting to celebrate with the rest of the citizens. Here and there, he could see groups of friends gathering to plan tomorrow's parties. Festive lights were already strung up over the harbour, waiting for the reactor to come on-line. 

"What do you say? Should I join my friends too?" Jude asked the wind, but the wind didn't answer. Neither did the young people who were pretending not to watch him putter around the harbour front. 

That was good enough for Jude. 

For Alvin, Jude drank a toast with a group of his students that he found clustered around a street vendor. For Elise, he bought a stuffed doll and gave it to a child with holes in his sweater. For Rowen he spent half an hour listening to a violinist who busked near the subway, and for Leia -- his dear, departed sister -- he attempted a roundhouse kick and nearly dislocated his hip. 

And that was that. 

Well. That wasn't _entirely_ that. 

Jude cast a simple platform arte and walked out onto the water. He barely recognized the wizened, sprightly man with thick glasses and fine white hair, who had the audacity to look back at him from the surface of the ocean. Jude chose to raise his chin and face the air. 

"Hey, Milla. You have a minute?" 

And there she was, as beautiful as the day Jude met her. Her gaze felt like a fishhook strung throughout the base of his skull. Jude's mana lobe wasn't what it used to be. 

"Jude."

"That's right."

"Hm. You've aged again." She leaned forward, and traced the side of his mouth with her index finger. 

"You always sound so surprised when you say that."

"There are craters in your face. Have you been frowning?" 

"Not most of the time, no." Jude's eyes crinkled into a smile behind his glasses. 

"Good." Milla said. "You have no reason to frown. You've completed your mission." 

Tethering with Milla is as easy as holding out his hand. Keeping her there is like trying to clutch the tail end of a tornado. It had been been twenty-five years since they last talked like this, and already, Jude could feel himself diminish, his mana unravelling bit by bit. 

Back then, he'd kept things short to decrease the strain on his withered body. Now, at one hundred and fifteen, Jude felt far too creaky to give a damn. 

"Tell me, Milla, do you know what happens to humans after death? Do they truly become part of the spirit realm?"

"Jude…" 

"Is Rowen with you, now? Is Leia? Or Alvin, or Elise?"

Jude could see Milla struggling to find an answer that he would be able to process. 

"Not precisely." Milla said. "Not in a way that you or they would recognize." 

"Ah."

Jude looked out at the starry horizon. This didn't seem to please Milla. She floated out in front of him so that her mane of hair obscured his view. If she could have touched him, she would have been shaking his shoulders. 

"Jude. If you're planning on dying, if you go… there won't be anyone left in this world who doesn't know me as Lord Maxwell. When you consider our plans to foster co-operation between humans and spirits, you know that's an unacceptable outcome."

"You think I don't get sick of being Honoured Professor Mathis, sometimes? The people who called me Jude all passed away a long time ago."

"So you understand the situation." Milla nodded. 

Except she _didn't_ understand the situation Or maybe she did, and simply choose not to acknowledge it until her hand was forced. That would be so like Milla. Her strength of conviction could level entire mountain ranges. 

"Death isn't something I've made plans around, Milla." Jude apologized. "It just is."

"I see."

They were silent for a good while, then. Jude enjoyed the way the waves lapped at his heels, and the sounds of the bustling city behind him. His people were so good. He was so proud. 

"I'd like your help to cast an arte, if you don't mind." 

"What kind of arte?" 

"Those students of mine, they've gotten a complacent now that the reactor is complete. I'd like to give them a kick in the pants. It's time they found their own paths as researchers."

"Don't worry," Milla said. "I have just the thing." 

Milla extended her hand, and Jude took it, threading his fingers through the ghost of Milla's presence. The drain on his mana was painless. He was too polite to mention the tears in her eyes. 

That evening, Fennmont experienced sunset for the first time in two hundred and sixty-two years. The light filtered in at ten o'clock and lasts for twenty-two minutes before the stars blink back to life. The uproar was so great that local authorities nearly delayed the scheduled reactor opening. 

No one noticed that Professor Mathis (ordinarily the first person to take an interest in spirit clime fluctuations) was missing until the next morning. 

By that point, his corpse had long since sunk beneath the waves. 

***

Life began in the depths of the spirit realm, unfurling from the potential of the fathomless dark. One moment, there was nothing. The next, a spirit was there. 

He knew that he was a spirit. 

He knew that he was born exactly five seconds ago.

He knew that five seconds could feel like one hundred years of waiting, if you let it.

He knew that he had brown eyes and skin like midnight. 

He didn't know how he knows so many things. He just did. It bothered him that he didn't know _everything_ , but he was only five seconds old, so he decided not to dwell on it. The world was new and overwhelming. Surely there would be opportunities for measurement and experimentation in the future, when he reached the ripe old age of thirty seconds, or even sixty! 

The spirit opened his eyes, and added a new fact to his collection: he was not alone. 

"Hello, there," the other spirit said.

"Um."

He didn't have much to say to that. The other spirit was gorgeous -- glorious, even -- and she looked comfortable in her own skin. She could even move both arms at once without being awkward. The spirit was still getting used to the rush of air in and out of his lungs. 

"I'm not going to hurt you," the other spirit continued. 

"Okay."

"Can you tell me your name?"

Sixty-five seconds of life. Now, sixty-six. Sixty-seven. Sixty-eight. Time was passing. Already, the spirit felt unbearably ancient. Why was he being so lazy?? There was honestly no excuse. 

"I'm Sekundes," the spirit said, and felt the name settle over him like a comfortable coat. 

That wasn't all, though. There's something more. 

Sekundes raised his left hand and pressed his fingertips to his temple. He noted the way the other spirit looked him in the eye. Her stance was squared, as though to take on all comers. It was incredibly reassuring to know that somebody was on top of this whole 'existence' thing. Sekundes was still getting the hang of it. 

"I'm the Great Spirit of Time. And you -- you're--" 

Sekundes' mind stretched and struggled for an answer that was just beyond his reach. So annoying! Was he blushing? He was blushing. Stupid stupid stupid! He hated being behind. 

"I am Maxwell, Lord of Spirits," Maxwell said. 

Then, impossibly, she smiled. 

"If you can live up to your potential, I may allow you to call me Milla."

**Author's Note:**

> All I wanted from this game was for Jude and Milla to have a happy ending. When I recalled the skit where Elise talked about her parents maybe becoming spirits, I knew what I had to do. 
> 
> For those not in the know: Sekundes shows up as a summon in several other Tales games, much like Volt and Celcius.


End file.
